Trying not to fall in love
by NancyMay
Summary: In which Phryne gets into a spot of bother courtesy of her father. My first Miss Fisher fan fic but not my first fan fic, I usually write for Dr Blake Mysteries, but I've just finished watching the DVDs to take my mind off back pain, so I thought I'd give it a go. Reviews, thoughts, comments all welcome.


Dot knocked at the door and entered without waiting for an answer. Her mistress had retired to bed at a reasonable hour the night before, storming up the stairs after an angry discourse with her father, who had turned up in Melbourne, again!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Baron had decided to come and visit his daughter, but wouldn't give a reason for having fled England, again!

Even Dot was cross the way he would arrive, beaming, cheery words flowing, without letting Miss Fisher know he was on his way and with no proper excuse. This time he waffled on about needing to see a friend about a business deal.

'You're running from a dodgy card game, again, aren't you, father?' Phryne had yelled at him, in a most unladylike manner.

'Nonsense, my dear.' The Baron had smiled, 'it's just business.'

'How much do you owe this time?' She had snapped, 'or have you hocked the family silver?'

'Phryne, Phryne,' he held out his hands, 'really now, what do you think I am?'

'I'd rather not answer that!' She drained her whisky and stomped up the stairs.

Dot had been left to put Henry Fisher in the guest room, knowing he would not have arranged a room anywhere, even if he had the money to pay for it, which on past experience he probably hadn't.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bed was empty, not slept in, the curtains open, as was the window by her dressing table.

'Miss Fisher?' Dot called gently, and looked round the bed to see if she had fallen, then in the bathroom, but no, The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective, was nowhere to be seen.

Dorothy Williams put the tray down and thought. Screaming and running down the stairs in panic would not serve any use. Should she inform the Baron? Probably not. She looked at the open window. It had not been warm enough for it to be left open over night. She looked out and down, taking care not to put her bare hands on the sill for fear of adding her prints to any there. There was no sign Miss Fisher had let herself down with a rope in order to leave the house secretly. The mood she was in, thought Dot, she would have stormed out of the house and slammed the door behind her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Downstairs Henry was helping himself to one of Mr Butler's hearty breakfasts. Dot slipped into the kitchen.

'Mr Butler,' she whispered, 'Miss Fisher has disappeared.'

'Surely not, Dorothy.' He whispered back, immediately understanding she did not want the houseguest to know.

'Her bed's not been slept in and the window was open,' Dot told him what she had found. 'I need to get the Inspector.' She pulled her coat on, 'if he asks say she's, she's...'Dot tried to think of an excuse for Phryne not being around.

'...out for an early morning swim?'

'Too cold,' Dot noted. 'No, just say she's indisposed, female problems.' Dot blushed, 'that should keep him out of her room. Say she's in a sulk. Can you lock the room, until I get back. I'd phone but...'

'...ears, Dorothy, ears.' Mr Butler smiled, slyly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot was quite out of breath when she arrived at City South Police Station, 'Hugh,' she gasped, 'is the Inspector in?'

'Dottie, what...'

She ignored him, she had no breath to waste on explaining twice, and hurried on into the office.

'Inspector,' she burst in regardless of whether Inspector Jack Robinson was otherwise engaged, 'it's Miss Fisher.' Dot paused to try and get her breath back.

The Inspector stood up and guided her to the chair.

'Slow down, Miss Williams,' he kept his hand on her shoulder, calming her down, 'now what about Miss Fisher?' His voice was calm and kindly.

'She's missing.' Dot took a deep breath, 'I took her tray in, but her bed's not been slept in.'

'Is there any reason she would have sneaked out?' He asked, though he thought it a silly question, Phryne Fisher did not need a reason to take herself off into the night if she felt the urge so to do.

'Not in her night gown, sir.' Dot looked affronted, 'she was wearing a pale green silk nightgown and matching robe. She had had an argument with her father, who turned up last night, and stormed upstairs. She slammed her bedroom door and that was the last I heard.'

'What else can you tell me, Miss Williams?' Jack knew that Dot would have taken stock of the scene before running down to the station, 'and why didn't you phone?'

'I didn't phone because I didn't want the Baron to hear.' Dot spoke quietly, as if the Baron could hear her now, 'the window was open, I looked to see if she'd gone out by rope, you know Miss Fisher, but no. The bed wasn't disturbed, she hadn't got dressed because she would have left her night-things on the bed.'

Jack took a step back, this was not Miss Fisher's way. 'Right, let's get over there,' he headed out of the office with a 'Constable Collins!'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot took them round to the kitchen door, hoping to avoid Henry. Mr Butler was having a cuppa and looked up, putting his finger to his lips.

'I need to see Miss Fisher's room, Mr Butler.' Jack whispered.

Mr Butler stood up and motioned them to stay put while he found a way of getting the Baron out of the dining room.

'Would sir like to read the papers in the drawing room?' He indicated the days publications, beautifully pressed and folded.

'Capital idea!' Henry grinned, and followed him into the other room.

Jack, Dot and Hugh snuck up the stairs and waited while Dot unlocked Phryne's bedroom door. It was just as she had left it, including the tray she had taken up.

Neither Jack nor Hugh had ever been in the room before, why would they?

It was opulent, Jack supposed, with thick drapes at the windows, satin sheets and pillow cases, a fur cover over the bed. He imagined it being warm, that safe kind of feeling one got when tucked up by a loving parent.

Jack and Hugh looked all over the room, hoping to find some evidence that she had actually been in there, at all. They examined the window sill and all they could agree on was that the only way she could have got out of the room was by the window, but, as Dot had pointed out, she would have dressed first, if she went of her own free will.

'Why is her father here?' Jack asked.

'I don't know, sir.' Dot admitted, 'he says it's a business deal, but Miss Fisher suggested he was running from a card game or maybe he had, in her words, hocked the family silver.'

'So she thinks he owes money?' Hugh suggested.

'Oh, well, on past experience...'Dot smiled.

'Well, we're going to have to tell him she's missing.' Jack inhaled deeply, 'and find out really why he's here.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Jack! M'boy!' The Baron greeted the Inspector like a long lost son, 'how lovely to see you.'

'Baron.' Jack said quietly, 'do you know where your daughter is?'

'Phryne?' Henry sat down, still beaming, 'in her room, fit of the vapours I hear.'

'No she isn't.' Jack replied, flatly. 'She's missing. And when did your daughter ever have a fit of the vapours?'

'Well you know Phryne,' he continued to smile, 'probably gone for a morning stroll.'

'In her night things?' Dot huffed, 'never.'

'Oh, well.' The man looked completely nonplussed. 'I'm afraid you've got me there.'

'Why are you here, Lord Fisher?' Jack asked, as Hugh took out his notebook to write down any answer.

'Oh, just a business deal.' Henry answered, airily. 'Nothing to do with this, I assure you.'

It was the fact that he 'assured' Jack that worried the Inspector. Every time Henry, Lord Fisher arrived there was trouble, it was never an innocent business deal or a visit to catch up with Phryne. A fact Jack pointed out. Henry looked hurt.

A gentle knock on the drawing room door heralded Mr Butler bearing a small, but dirty envelope.

'For you, sir.' He held it out with his fingertips to the Baron.

Henry opened it, read it and raised his eyebrows. Saying nothing he put it in his waistcoat pocket and started to leave the room.

Jack wordlessly held out his hand and clicked his fingers.

'Oh, it's nothing, Jack.' Henry smiled, but there was worry behind the eyes.

'Baron...' Jack intoned slowly, 'hand it over.'

'No, you have no right to read my personal mail!' He pushed passed, knocking Hugh into the door frame and headed upstairs. They hear his door close and the distinct click of the lock.

'That's something to do with Miss Fisher, isn't it?' Constable Collins rubbed his shoulder.

'Of course,' Jack stood with his hands in his pockets. He could arrest Henry, charge him with obstruction, but he doubted that would get him anywhere. He'd hide the letter somewhere, or more likely destroy it to stop Jack investigating his daughter's disappearance.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne shook her head to try to clear the fog from her brain but all that served to do was make her feel sick. There was something over her head and the remaining odour of chloroform told her she had been knocked out and kidnapped. She tried to move but her hands were tied, and given she felt she was in a seated position she was able to work out she was tied to a chair, bound by the ankles to the legs of that piece of furniture. The rope was tight but not quite cutting the blood flow to her fingers. She shivered, her satin robe afforded her no protection from the chill of wherever she was. She listened for any sounds that would give her an idea of her location. There was, what could only be described as, a deafening silence. She strained her ears for anything, breathing, even, god help her, the scuttling of a rodent across the floor. Nothing.

She tried to take stock of her situation: She had no ongoing cases that would lead to her being kidnapped, so...what had her father done this time? Should she blame him? Well it pointed that way. He turns up, unexpectedly, she gets kidnapped. She tried to shift on the chair, her bottom had gone numb, but moving just reminded her she needed the bathroom.

'Hello?' She called, 'anybody there?'

Silence.

'Hello?' Louder this time.

Still silence.

'Hey!' She put real effort into the shouting now, although that made her head hurt.

She hated the way she felt, helpless. The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective, did not do 'helpless'. She didn't cry out of frustration but that was what she felt like doing, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes.

'Pull yourself together,' she told herself, sternly, 'crying doesn't solve anything. The first thing you have to do, my girl, is to get this blasted hood off.' Giving herself a good talking to helped take her mind of the insistence of her bladder. Taking a deep breath, for she knew this was going to hurt, she threw her head forward, jarring her brain and leaving her neck feeling as if it had been stretched beyond all possibilities. But, the hood had moved, so more of it was over her face, she nodded it slowly off until it fell onto her lap and she tipped her head back gently , her usually neat cap of black hair in what Dot would call, 'a right mess!'

Dot. Would she have gone into her room yet? What time was it? Would they know she was missing?

She opened her eyes, blinking in the gloom, which to her was unnaturally bright after the hood. She appeared to be in a cellar of some sort. There were boxes piled up to her left, to her right was a flight of stairs leading to a closed door and a wine rack, devoid of its expected contents, directly in front of her, above which was a small window. If she could get out of this chair she would be able to climb up the rack and slip out of the window. Plan A, she thought.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light she could take further stock of her surroundings. She risked hitching the chair round so she could look behind her, gritting her teeth against the nagging urge of her body and the rubbing of the rough chair legs against her ankles. There'd be splinters she thought, at the very least.

There was nothing she could use, to rub the rope against to cut it.

The silence was eerie. She had never felt so lonely in her entire life. That window was so enticing, she simply had to get loose, and if whoever had kidnapped her had left her completely alone then nobody would hear her make noises. How strong was this chair? Whatever she did she was going to end up very bruised at the least, but, she thought, needs must...

She leant forward from her waist as far as was humanly possible, damn! Her hands were not only bound behind her they were also bound to the cross bar at the back. She growled angrily.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Now what?' Dot watched the two men think.

'Outside, under her window.' Jack pushed Hugh out of the door, 'Miss Williams keep an eye and an ear out for his Lordship.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack stood back and shielded his eyes from the early morning sun as he looked up at her window. Phryne would not have gone quietly, they must have either knocked her out or drugged her.

Hugh looked all around the ground, finding many footprints, some deeper than others and a rope, discarded in the foliage. He looked up at the wall, and called Jack over.

They both looked up and then at the rope. It was barely long enough to reach the window ledge.

'Maybe they hung it from the balcony, sir.' Hugh suggested.

'Dropped her from the window, you mean?'

'Maybe.' Hugh looked at him, neither wanting her to have been hurt, 'then slung her over a shoulder and climbed down.'

'Hence the heavy footprints.'

'Sir.' Hugh agreed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Henry looked at the note, hastily scrawled but not uneducated.

'Bring the 5 thou. you owe to the pier, 7 o'clock tonight, and you can have her back.'

Damn and blast it! Where was he going to get his hands on five thousand pounds by seven o'clock? Phryne didn't keep that amount in the house, and if she did, he wouldn't be able to find it. What would they do to his lovely girl if he didn't give them what they wanted?

He had to get out of the house. Perhaps there was some jewellery in Phryne's room he could pawn. He'd soon be able to pay her back. Henry was nothing if not optimistic that everything would turn out fine in the end He carefully opened the door to his room and tiptoed along to his daughter's room. Checking he was not observed he turned the handle, slowly. The door would not budge, Jack had locked it again, a crime scene should not be disturbed. He didn't have Phryne's lock picking skills so unless he forced the door, which would make a terrific noise, he couldn't get in.

He went back to his room to think. Phryne had a safe, in the drawing room behind a painting. Perhaps he could get Miss Williams out of the way while he had a go at opening it. He knew how to do it, he'd shown Phryne, years ago, but did he still have the hearing to do the job. He wandered nonchalantly down the stairs.

'I say, Miss Williams,' he smiled at Dot who inwardly shuddered, 'don't suppose there's any tea going?'

Dot looked at him, frankly the thoughts that went through her head, as to what she could lace it with, would leave her in the confessional for a week!

'Your lordship.' Dot thought she could reasonably leave him in the room while she went to the kitchen, but as she passed the front door she turned the key and slipped it into her apron pocket.

In the kitchen she put the kettle on and laid a tray. Mr Butler came through from the scullery.

'Tea, Dorothy?'

'For Lord Fisher.' Dot grunted, through gritted teeth.

'Here,' he handed her a small packet, 'tip this in, but don't let anyone else drink it.'

'What is it?' Dot looked at the writing, 'Miss Phryne Fisher, in cases of over excitement, dispensed by Dr E Macmillan.'

'A sleeping draft.' Mr Butler smiled, 'left over from another case when Miss Fisher wouldn't settle at night.'

'Oh yes, I remember.' Dot smiled at the sneaking the powders into her mistress' drink when she wanted to go and beat a confession out of Murdoch Foyle, before he kidnapped Jane and Jack.

She tipped the powders into the tea and took the tray through.

'Your tea, Lord Fisher.' She smiled pleasantly and poured him a cup of the specially prepared brew. 'It's a new mix, Miss Fisher is rather fond of, tell me what you think.' She handed him the cup, noticing that the picture was not flat against the wall as it should be.

'Thank you, my dear.' He took it, best not offend the girl, he had what he wanted, so his Phryne would be safe. All he had to do was wait until just before seven. Though how he was to get out of the house, he wasn't sure.

Dot busied herself with nothing while Henry drank the tea. She closed the lid over the piano keys, moved a vase round a little, straightened the picture and waited for him to doze off. It was quicker acting in whisky but it was too early even for Miss Fisher to be drinking hard liquor.

Eventually he yawned, Dot picked up the tray and sailed out of the room smiling to herself. There was a bump behind her as he slumped to the floor, out cold.

Putting the tray on the hall table she opened the door and called for Jack and Hugh to come back into the house.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne angled the back of the chair and rocked back into the wine rack. It had taken what seemed like forever to get the chair in the right position so when she rocked she hoped it would break at least one side. The first rock just rattled through her but there was a creak of straining wood. She did it again and again until the wood splintered and broke. The joint between the cross bar and the side of the chair back gave way and she was able to slide her bound wrists over the end. But, they were still bound.

Now she had to find a way to break the legs of the chair, just the ones she was tied to but that would only hurt her. No, it would have to be the back ones, which would, hopefully, break the joint between the legs and seat at the front. She angled the chair at the foot of the stairs, and preparing herself for injury, hurled herself backwards. The splintering sound was the loudest she had heard in a good while and she lay there gasping with the effort and the pain now ranging across her shoulders. But it had worked. She silently gave three cheers to her ingenuity and wriggled until her legs were free and she could roll on the ground, most undignified, Dot would have said. First deal with her immediate needs. She stood up shakily and looked round. In a corner was a bucket. She tottered over to it, it was currently empty but she was about to fill it, of that she was sure. Hitching her nightgown up with her still bound hands she sighed with relief and it took her back to those dark days of poverty in the back streets of Collingwood where the facilities were very similar! She worked her wrist bonds on an old rusty axe and it eventually wore away the rope.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Well done, Miss Williams,' Jack smiled as he surveyed her handiwork. 'Now let's have a look shall we?' He knelt by the sleeping Baron and deftly searched his pockets. He found the note and the bundle of cash he had helped himself to, from Phryne's safe.

'Well,' he counted it quickly, 'there's enough here, fancy paying your own ransom.' He huffed, 'Miss Fisher is not going to be pleased.'

He checked pockets for anything else he may have helped himself to, though Jack did not know what the woman he tried so hard not to fall in love with, kept in her safe.

'Miss Williams,' He looked up at Dot, 'what does she usually keep in the safe?'

'Just money for, er, expenses,' Dot told him, 'her special jewellery is in a safe deposit at the bank.'

'Right.' Jack stood up, 'but how do we get her back and not lose the money?'

Dot pulled the picture back and noticed the safe was still open. 'Do you want to put that back, Inspector?' She asked.

'Not just yet.' Jack smiled, 'Oh, don't worry Miss Williams I have no intention of giving it over, but as an insurance policy...' As far as he was concerned it was far less than she was worth.

'Of course.' Dot closed the safe and put the picture against the wall.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne gingerly climbed up the wine rack, which she had found to be rather rickety and only just able to bear her slight weight. She'd made a heck of a lot of noise freeing herself from her bonds, and was sure someone would be down shortly. She had one of the chair legs with her and with it broke the glass in the window. The frame was nailed shut and the window was small, but she hoped her slim figure would fit through. She was at pains to ensure there was no glass on which she could injure herself. Breaking out but bleeding to death in the process seemed rather stupid.

She poked her head out of the gap and looked around. Wherever she was there was absolutely no cover between her and the wall. The ground was dry, the remains of a lawn spread out before her, well she'd just have to run for it. She started to wriggle out of the tiny gap. The rough wood snagged and tore her clothing, such as it was, and grazed her skin. Flattening herself against the wall of the building she surveyed the wall. It was not a high wall but there were metal railings along the top. She shuffled round the building trying to find a break, a hole big enough to fit through, the gates? Anything that would aid her escape. She was near the front of the building now and could see the gates. They were rather ornate, but needed repairs. Perhaps she could get through.

'Right, Phryne Fisher,' she whispered to herself, 'one two, three.' She darted across the ground ignoring the pains in her legs from the splinters and the time spent in one position.

'Oi!' A booming male voice behind her then a deep bark, 'get her!'

She was nearly there when she was floored by a huge dog, slobbering over her back, holding her down.

'Well done, Caesar.' The voice said and she found herself being dragged up by her arm. 'Going somewhere, Miss Fisher?' He was big and ugly and he snarled into her face. She turned her face away from his foul breath. The man propelled her forward, stumbling over the rough ground, and back into the house.

'What do you want with me?' She snapped.

'Your father owes us some money,' he hissed into her face, making her retch. 'When we get it you can go.'

Somehow, Phryne didn't believe him. Hostages were never freed, whole, they usually ended up in the Yarra or the bay. She was dragged, kicking and writhing, to the cellar door, where he secured her wrists with the tie from her robe and threw her bodily down the stairs.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Until Henry awoke Jack felt there was nothing they could do to find Phryne, and as time passed he became more and more concerned for her safety. Every time they investigated a case together she worried him, the way she went into battle without a care for her own safety. Armed she maybe, with a small dagger tucked into her garter and a small gun in her handbag, but, nevertheless he still worried. There again, sitting hosting luncheons and teas, raising funds for good causes and sitting on boards would bore her senseless then he'd be worried for her sanity! He wanted his Phryne whole in mind and body. His Phryne? Where had that come from? She would never be his, or anybody's completely, she was too free spirited, which was what he loved about her and also what hurt him. When she dangled her latest conquest in front of him, it was like a knife turning in a wound. But she dropped these men like a discarded stocking when she had had enough, or when they had served their purpose in helping to solve a puzzle.

Mr Butler served a light lunch of sandwiches, tea and cake, but it seemed dry and tasteless without Phryne there. Dot could barely swallow and was grateful when Henry woke up. She had held her council for long enough and before Jack or Hugh could stop her she launched into a tirade about his selfishness, his appalling lack of desire to keep his daughter safe, the way he turned up and endangered her life by getting caught up in nefarious dealings with god knew who.

Hugh sat open mouthed and vowed never to get on the wrong side of Dottie when they were man and wife. Jack, sat back with his arms folded and his admiration for this quiet, unassuming girl who did Miss Fisher's bidding, rose greatly. He even allowed himself a small smile, hoping he would have the chance to tell Phryne how Miss Williams had given it to Henry, both barrels.

Henry sat there, trying to bluster his way out of it. Phryne would be fine, he said, she knew how to handle herself, these people weren't killers.

'So, where will we find her?' Jack asked softly but, Dot thought, there was a menacing tone to his voice.

'I don't know.' Henry looked down, 'I know as much as you do, that I have to be at the pier at seven tonight with the money.'

'Cards?' Dot asked.

'Um, yes.' Henry admitted.

'Lord Fisher,' she sighed, 'you lose more card games than Miss Fisher loses stockings.' Given that Phryne was actually quite careful with where she took her clothes off this was an unfair comparison, but Dot couldn't think of anything her mistress lost on a regular basis, apart from her self control where men were concerned.

'Does Lady Fisher know?' Jack asked. Henry usually kept his wife out of any such dealings.

'No.' He still wouldn't look Jack in the eye.

'Right,' Jack snapped, 'names, now!'

Henry had to give him the names, Inspector Robinson was likely to lock him in the cells if he didn't, then Margaret would find out and it would all be over.

The names meant nothing to Jack, they weren't known criminals, or business men. Probably just some society card players who played dirty. He wondered if Mrs Stanley would know them. Asking would mean letting her know her brother in law was around, and she had little time for him. Still, if it meant getting Phryne back...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prudence Stanley sat with the phone clamped to her ear as Inspector Jack Robinson read out the list of names Henry had furnished him with. She was furious that Henry had put Phryne in danger, heaven knew she didn't need any help in that respect.

'That's the only name I know, Inspector,' she acknowledged. 'The family used to live out of town but now I believe they live in Middle Park.'

'Thank you, Mrs Stanley,' Jack smiled down the phone, 'I'll let you know when we have her home.'

Prudence put the phone down and wondered if she should go over to St Kilda and speak to Henry, but apparently that girl Phryne had working for her had done so. According to the Inspector anyway, and while she didn't think a policeman was a suitable consort for her niece, at least he was steady and he did get the job done.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack passed on the information to Hugh and they headed out to the station to see if they could find out anymore. They had some old almanacs of Melbourne that had well to do families and their addresses in them. They'd come in handy before, finding old houses and the original owners.

'I don't think they'd keep her in Middle Park, Collins.' Inspector Robinson noted, 'too populated, not easy to hide a forthright young lady like Miss Fisher.'

'No indeed sir.' Hugh agreed. 'So out to the old house.?'

'Yes.' Jack picked up the car keys, thinking that the Hispano would be quicker, but they'd have to make do with the police car.

It was a long drive out to Beaconsfield, but once there it didn't take them long to find the old house Mrs Stanley had alluded to. They parked down the road and walked until they could see the wall and railings and the gate that Phryne had tried to get to. They walked along the wall looking at the building, trying to spot any place that would indicate the whereabouts of The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective. It was getting on in the day and Jack knew they had to leave enough time to get to the pier at St Kilda before seven or...he didn't want to think about the alternative.

'Sir,' Constable Collins pointed over to the house, 'look, on the ground.'

Glass sparkled in the late afternoon sun, under the tiny window Phryne had broken.

'Good girl,' he muttered to himself. 'Had a go, didn't you.'

'How do we get there?' Hugh whispered.

Jack looked at the railings, rusty but in some places still strong. He walked along pulling at them, trying to find one that would break and give them enough room to climb through. Going through the front gate was unthinkable. Suddenly they heard voices and footsteps then a question,

'What about the girl?'

'Leave her, I might tell them where she is, if he comes up with the cash,' came the snarled answer.

A car drove out of the gates, Jack and Hugh crouched down and waited until it was out of sight. The gates had been left open, they could take a chance, they hoped and ran, still crouched until they could slip through. They paused, waiting for someone to spot them. Nothing.

'Front door, Collins,' Jack whispered, 'draw your weapon.'

Hugh didn't usually get a pistol but this time Jack didn't have Phryne for back up and he was a good shot.

'Sir.'

They scooted, still crouched to the door and Jack stood, straight backed and formal, then knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again, just in case the butler was old and slow.

Still nothing.

Jack tried the door, unlocked.

'Hope we aren't expected Collins.'

Hugh swallowed.

In the hall dust hung in the air. The decor was shabby, the floor un-polished, footsteps in the dirt. Jack followed them, all of them, some ending at a door set under the elaborate curved staircase. He pushed at the door,

'Locked.'

'So Sir,' Hugh whispered, 'boot or bullet?'

'Key, I think.' Jack reached up to a hook screwed into the frame, 'considerate of them, don't you think?'

'Yes, sir.' Hugh was a tad disappointed.

'Wait here, Collins.' Jack disappeared into the darkness. He pulled his torch from his inside pocket and turned it on. He could see all that Phryne had seen; the wine rack, the boxes and, at the bottom of the steps...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She blinked in the torch beam.

'Jack?' Barely a whisper from her dry mouth.

'Shh...' he soothed as he took off his coat. 'How badly hurt are you?'

'Don't know,' Phryne sniffed, her self control all but gone. 'Bruised all over.'

'Alright, I'll be as gentle as I can be.'

'I want to go home.' She gave up and cried. 'Please.'

'I'd rather you went to hospital.' He wrapped her ever so gently in his coat.

'No, get Mac.' She took a sharp breath in as he lifted her into his arms.

'Ok,' he wasn't going to argue, he'd leave that to Dr Macmillan.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hugh had driven as quickly as he could, without breaking the speed limit, back to Miss Fisher's house. They'd make it with time to spare before there were any unwelcome visitors.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Mr Butler, call Dr Macmillan,' Jack ordered as he entered the house, carrying Miss Fisher, 'Miss Williams, a bath for Miss Fisher.' He preceded Dot up the stairs where she unlocked the bedroom and let him in.

'Inspector?' She questioned as she started to run the bath and put some plain salt into the hot water. It wasn't perfume that was required this time, plain salt was good for cleaning wounds.

'We'll know more when Mac gets here.' He lay her on the bed and started to undo the ropes from her ankles.

'Phryne?' Henry poked his head round the door. Dot shooed him away,

'But he's here.' Henry pointed at Jack, who was bending over the limp figure.

'Out,' Dot pushed him away and closed the door. She was well aware that there was a man in Miss Fisher's bedroom, helping to make her comfortable, but she was past caring about such sensibilities, and, anyway, she couldn't lift her mistress. She grabbed a towel and a pair of scissors.

'Right, Inspector, I need your help.' She took charge, 'I'm going to cut her nightgown off and put a towel over her. Then I want you to lift her into the bath for me.'

'Er...really?' Jack scratched his head.

'I can't lift her.' Dot cut through the satin, and hid Phryne's nakedness from Jack with the towel.

Jack took his jacket off and rolled his shirt sleeves up. Following Dot's instructions he put the battered form of the woman he tried not to love, gently into the water, then stood back.

'Right.' Dot set to, ignoring the winces and squeaks from her mistress, 'those towels, fold the cover back and put them on the bed.' She turned to Phryne, 'Now miss,' she became gentle and motherly. 'Let's get these cuts cleaned, eh?'

'Splinters, my ankles.' Phryne gasped, but Dot was tender with her bathing, she eased the splinters out, washed her face, cleaned the blood from her nose, all the while talking to her as if she was a child with scraped knees. She even washed her hair. Draining the bath Dot lay another towel over her mistress,

'Now, Inspector,' she said quietly, 'I want you to lift Miss Fisher out of the bath and put her on those towels, then you can scoot.'

'Yes, Miss Williams.' Jack smiled, he couldn't help it. Dorothy Williams was usually a quiet, girl, almost shy and rather prudish, but here she was, ordering him about, gently, but still, and allowing him to lift a naked woman out of her bath. Wonders would never cease.

Jack lay Phryne on the bed as directed.

'Jack.' she murmured, 'thank you.'

He kissed her forehead, he never kissed her, because he was trying so hard not to fall in love with her, but, just this once...

Dot was gently patting the cuts and bruises dry when Dr Macmillan was admitted. Phryne was still barely with them,

'Concussed, I expect.' Mac suggested.

'I hope I did right, doctor.' Dot whispered, not wanting to disturb Miss Fisher, 'cleaning her like this.'

'Perfect, Dot.' Mac smiled. 'It means I can see her injuries better. Would you like to assist, then I'll help you put her in a clean nightgown.'

'Yes, doctor, I'd like that very much.'

Phryne's cuts were dressed, her bruises assessed and all splinters removed.

'Some cracked ribs, I'm sure.' Mac washed her hands. 'She needs a drink, tea or water, not alcohol. Something to eat if she'll take it, and rest.'

From downstairs they could hear raised voices and angry shouts.

'That's my daughter!' Henry was shouting, 'how dare you hurt her!' There was a thump then,

'Lord Fisher!' Jack's voice, Dot saw the ghost of a smile on Phryne's lips, 'if you don't stop I'll be forced to arrest you for affray!'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne woke and it was dark. She wasn't usually afraid of the dark but, just at the moment...

'Oh,' she felt her heart start to race.

'Phryne,' a hand took hers, 'shh, it's alright, you're safe now.'

'Jack?' She whispered and tried to pull herself up, but he put his hand on her shoulder, gently holding her down. He never called her by her first name, because he was trying not to fall in love with her, and failing, she knew.

'It's dark.' She sniffed, god was she crying again, just because it was dark?

'I'll let some light in.' He let go of her hand and tweaked a the curtains open, just enough to let the moonlight in, then went to sit on the edge of the bed and hold her hand again. 'Better?' He asked, wiping the errant tears off her cheek with his thumb.

'Yes, thank you.' Smiling hurt, and she wanted to smile at him, to let him know...

'Can I get you anything, some tea, perhaps?' He asked gently.

She ran her tongue over her dry lips, 'Please.'

While he was gone she felt lost. She kept telling herself not to be so silly, she was The Honourable Phryne Fisher, Lady Detective, she didn't get 'lost'. Not like this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He held her so she could take sips of the tea, from the cup in his hand. The liquid was warm and sweet. He took the cup from her when she had had enough and she nestled her head on his chest, just below his shoulder, finding a niche there, that was safe and comfortable. Jack Robinson was going nowhere, even battered and bruised and with a thumping headache, Phryne Fisher got what she wanted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So there's my first Miss Fisher fanfic. Reviews and comments always welcome. I'd like to do some more, but I'd like to know if I've got it right first.


End file.
